Casey probably would have had a snappy comeback if his lungs and airways hadn't just been filled by noxious zombie farts. It's like a mustard gas attack. He's pretty sure his nose hairs are burning off.

He collapses forward, coughing and choking, because gas is supposed to rise to the ceiling right.

"Man!" he says, between desperate gasps for clear air, "My hideout is in the New York sewers and you are still the most rank thing I've ever smelled!"